"Just a shade. You might have heaps of friends."
"That may be, or may not. It is certain that I have not. Oh, well, this is unprofitable. Take a cigarette from the recluse."
They smoked in silence a minute or two.
"Your uncle?" asked Geoffrey; "he comes to-night, you said."
"Yes; I expect him before dinner. You've never seen him?"
"Never. What is he like?"
Harry pointed to a picture that hung above the fireplace.
"Like that," he said—"exactly like that."
Geoffrey looked at it a moment, shading his eyes from the lamp.